Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Hanson, their family, or anyone else involved in this fic.

Writer's note: I don't remember much of the writing of this - I was surprised to find that Kris's website went down, so I don't know what I might have written to introduce this. Enjoy anyway!

Control

The sterile white room smelled faintly of antiseptic and ammonia. Machines surrounded the head of the single bed, one of them emitting a faint beep in time with the heartbeat of the patient. Other monitors showed green, blue, and red flourescent numbers, some changing, others remaining constant as they measured temperature and brain activity. One harsh light was on, over the head of the bed, but the room was dark, casting the bed into a bit of a stage and the patient into a spotlight, in which he had lain without significant movement for far too long.

Diana Hanson stepped into the hospital room and wearily made her way to the bed, where her oldest child lay in a coma. He was looking more and more normal, finally, she thought, her eyes roving his face in a close scrutiny. He still hadn't regained consciousness, but the doctor was fairly certain he would sometime soon. The danger was pretty much past. She sat down in the chair she'd occupied for most of the last two weeks, settling into the most comfortable position. She'd had practice finding it. "Hey, Ike," she said softly, taking his left hand which lay above the covers. "Jessica and Avery really want to come and see you, but I don't think you're ready for that, yet. I wish you'd wake up. You have no idea how the press is hounding us, both over your reaction, and Tay and Zac...." Her voice faded, her hand clenching around his. "They won't leave us alone."

Isaac shifted, pulling uncomfortably at his hand, and she loosened her grip. He stilled again. That, apparently, wasn't that unusual for coma patients. "Mark Hudson was here for a while, but he couldn't stay long. Chris was actually guarding your door with Jason last week. Not that you need it," she added quickly. She looked at him for a minute, smiling as she noticed that someone had loosely french braided his hair. He wouldn't like that, if he ever woke up to find out. After a short pause, she pulled out a book, and began to read it out loud to him. She'd started it a while ago, and she knew that Walker was doing the same, with another book. The nurses had said that the best thing would be some input, talking to him or something, and they had decided to read him some of his books. The well read ones, mostly. She had decided that Isaac did, in fact, have pretty good taste in books. At least, as far as this one went.

"Mom, it's VorKOSigan, not Vorso... what you said." She looked up, startled at the soft voice, and smiled at Isaac. He smiled back, looking exhausted, his eyes barely open. Long-ish strands of wavy, tarnished gold hair framed his face.

"Hi. Welcome back to the waking world," she said softly. The book dropped from her hands, clattering to the floor on its spine. "We've missed you at home." Her voice was breaking, but she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't...

"Why are you crying?" he asked, sounding so like Zachary that she lost all control and sobbed into her hands. "Mom?" He sounded worried, almost panicked, and she looked up to see him struggling to sit up, to get to her. Her urge to cry went away; he needed her in control. She touched his arm, gently pushing him down.

"Stay in bed, Isaac. You aren't strong enough to get up yet."

"What happened? Are you okay?" he asked, relaxing again. The worry stayed in his face.

"There was... an accident." She swallowed the lump in her throat; mourning would come later, at home or when he slept. Or after he knew. "Do you remember?"

He looked at her, confused, then his forehead smoothed out again. "Yes. Did something to my back. I drove to the hospital to get something for it with Tay and Zac, I just picked them up at Grandmom's." Diana nodded encouragingly. "The nurse gave me something for the pain, and the doctor gave me a prescription of something different for later, and we headed for home." He stopped abruptly. "I started to feel really weird, then...." He shook his head. "That's all I remember.

"You had an allergic reaction, a very severe one. That was two weeks ago." She swallowed hard, to keep the tears down. "Your car is totaled. We didn't even recognize it when we went by, on our way to the hospital. You were all brought back here, and you have been here since then." She glanced at the door, desperate to change the topic of conversation, to put it off for a while longer. "They said that when you woke up, most of the nurses in the hall would be down here."

"Why?"

"Part of them because they are supposed to be here, and part of them because of their children, or nieces, or someone else like that." She grinned and ruffled his hair lightly, then took his hand again. She needed the contact to him desperately. "You're still a celebrity, Ike. Can't hide from it."

"Ugh. Even when I feel like... this." He closed his eyes and her heart went out to him; he looked too tired to be awake. "So, when can I go home?"

"I don't know, but I don't think it will be soon. You've been in a coma for two weeks." She took a deep breath; no use putting it off any longer. He couldn't hear this from anyone outside the family. "Isaac. I don't want you to hear this from anyone else." He opened his eyes and looked at her, alarmed. She took a second deep breath, stealing herself against telling him, trying to smile to reassure him. It didn't work; she could practically feel her face cracking. "Your brothers didn't make it."

He didn't seem to get it, at first. His brown eyes were blank, as if she'd turned off their function. She couldn't look away, watching as comprehension filled his eyes, then pain, and guilt, and finally, tears. He turned his head away from her, too weak to turn onto his side, and sobbed, burying his face in the blankets. She touched his shoulder, wishing he were small enough for her to hold him. He shrugged her off. Taking a deep breath, she pulled his head so he faced her. She was alarmed at how easy it was, how little resistance she felt. For only an instant, surprise broke through his pain, then was gone again.

"Look at me, Isaac." Her voice trembled, but she made it firm. "Look at me. This is not your fault. You didn't..."

"Not my fault? I killed them!" His voice was harsh.

"No! You didn't know, no one knew you were going to have that kind of a reaction. We almost lost you, too. You were on the edge for three days...." Her hand tightened on his, and she took a deep breath to get control. "It is not your fault."

He closed his eyes again, turning away from her, and this time she let him go. He needed the privacy - and he wouldn't get it. Not here, not at home, and no where else that she could think of. Family, press, fans all had him trapped in world where for him to come to grips with this, he needed to be alone. They couldn't allow that. Not yet. His health was too precarious. And after that, he'd have no excuse.

She got up and walked quietly to the door, aware of the muffled sobbing behind her, her heart breaking all over again. Quietly, she opened the door and stepped out. Jason Browning, the boys' bodyguard, looked up at her hopefully.

"He's awake," she said, and leaned tiredly against the wall. The urge to cry herself had returned and she fought it, tired of tears.

"Here. Sit down. You don't look so great." He stood and offered his chair. She took it.

"Thanks." She stared at the floor for a minute. "I had to tell him about the other two."

He nodded. "He'll be okay?"

She smiled wearily. "He's so weak, he's probably already asleep again." She sighed. "I guess I've been pronouncing the main character's name wrong." That, ironically, was the last straw, and the tears flooded her eyes again.

Jason smiled, and slipped into the room. The door closed behind him as Diana noticed a nurse walking towards her. Diana recognized her; her name, ironically, was Madeline, Madeline Cross. Ms. Cross had told her many times how sorry she was. She'd never heard of Hanson, and really hadn't understood everyone else's excitement. It had been refreshing.

"Hello, Mrs. Hanson. How is Isaac?"

Diana smiled weakly, cleaning her face from the tears. "He woke up. I don't know if he's still awake. Wait," she added as the woman moved towards the door. "Jason went to see if he's asleep again. He doesn't even like to have family around when he's crying."

"You told him, then, about his brothers?"

Diana nodded, bracing herself for the rampage, but Ms. Cross nodded. "Good. Best to get it out in the open now." Her surprise must have shown, because she chuckled. "That is one thing I disagree with almost everyone on. But the healing process must begin as soon as possible, and mind and body will get better together."

Jason returned. "He's not calming down," he said urgently. Diana went into the room, and the nurse followed. When she reached the bedside, she pulled the blankets away from her son, and he looked up at her, helpless.

"Please, leave me alone," he gasped, misery plain on his face. If possible, he looked more exhausted than he had when she left.

Diana smiled sadly, and brushed the loose strands of hair back. They were damp. "I won't do that, Isaac. I can't. I'm sorry." She stepped back and looked at the bed, searching for a way to let the railing down. Ms. Cross stepped in and lowered it for her. Diana smiled in thanks, and the nurse moved away again. She sat on the bed, one hand on his shoulder, one gently stroking his hair, and began to softly sing a lullaby that had put him to sleep from the day he was born. The third time through, his sobs eased, the tension in his shoulder relaxed, and then he slept. Diana bent down and kissed his tear-reddened cheek, then began the song again, her hand still moving in his hair. Ms. Cross let herself out.

Diana was hoarse by the time Walker arrived, looking haggard. He brightened perceptibly, though, when she told him that Isaac had come out of his coma. "I told him about Taylor and Zac, too," she said.

He held her tightly for their mutual comfort. "Good." He kissed her. "Go home and get some sleep. My mother has the children. They decided to spend the night there."

Diana sighed and lay her head on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"They are worried, though. I think we ought to let them come and see him. Losing two brothers was almost too much, and they've been afraid that they were going to lose Isaac, too."

She nodded. "I'll bring them tomorrow when I come."

Driving home, Diana thought about her oldest son, and how they were going to help him deal with what had happened. She still had no ideas when she pulled into the driveway. She got up the stairs somehow, fell into bed, and was asleep in an instant.

When Isaac woke, his eyes felt like sand paper, his head hurt, and his throat was raw. "Something to drink?" he heard to his right, and turned his head listlessly to see his father, holding a cup with a straw in it.

"Water?" he rasped.

"Water."

It stung his throat, tasted odd, and his stomach immediately rebelled, roiling furiously. He gasped, then clenched his teeth, swallowing frantically. Finally, the nausea calmed, and he looked at his father. "That wasn't water, was it?"

"No, I think it must be orange juice. They said it was water..." Walker looked around, and then blushed. "I'm sorry, Ike. I grabbed the wrong one. Still want some water?"

"Yes, please." This time it went down easy, and calmed his stomach. He sighed in relief. Then tears welled up in his eyes again, and he looked away from his father. Walker squeezed his shoulder.

"How are you feeling?"

"I... There's this hole," he said, blinking furiously. He lifted his hand to brush the tears from his face, and was surprised to find that it took more effort than it had before. He tucked it back under the covers. "Mom said I've been here for two weeks?"

"Yes." Walker checked his watch. "I had better ask you. Are you up to seeing your sisters and Mackie?"

Isaac took a sobbing breath; he wasn't quite as in control as he wanted to think. "Yes, please."

As if on cue, the door opened to let Diana and the younger kids in. Jessica and Avery climbed on the bed, ignoring their parents' protests, and sat on either side of Isaac, gazing at him as if they were afraid he would disappear before their eyes. He smiled at them, in control again. "Hi. How are you?" He could do this, he had to keep up appearances so they wouldn't know how torn up he was....

"How are you?" Jessica asked.

"Well, I can't move my arms...." Both girls got distressed looks on their faces. "No," he said quickly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you. You're sitting on the IV, Avery, and it hurts a little. Jessie, you are on my arm. Could you please.... Thanks." He got his arms loose from the covers and took one hand from each girl. "How are you two doing?"

Avery clutched at his hand. "Okay," she said, and then burst into sobs. Jessica didn't even get a word out before beginning to cry as well. Isaac looked helplessly at his mother, then tugged gently at the girls' hands. They lay down on either side of him, and he wrapped his arms around them and held them, whispering to them then singing softly the lullaby his mother had used the night before to help him sleep. Diana and Walker stepped away, then left the room. Mackenzie held onto his mother, staring behind him as they left the room. "Is he gonna be okay?" he asked.

"I think so," Isaac heard his mother say, then the door closed behind them.

Diana sank down in a chair in the corridor and cradled her youngest son close, fighting tears. He struggled to be let down, so she let him go and watched him take up a station at Jason's feet, peering up at the burly body guard. After a minute, he began alternately watching the door and the corridor. His manner was so like Jason's that she found, somewhere, that she had not yet lost the ability to laugh, in spite of the loss of two of her children.

Walker looked at his wife, surprised to hear mirth from her, but glad, too.

"What?"

"Watch Mackie."

The two were chuckling over him when Jessica came running out of the room a few minutes later, nearly tripping over her younger brother, eyes wide in panic. "Mom, something's wrong, he got real quiet...." Both Diana and Walker ran in to see Avery shaking Isaac's shoulder.

"Wake up," she sobbed. "Wake up. Please don't be dead, too."

Diana lifted the six-year-old off the bed as Walker felt for a pulse. It was strong, slow, and steady. "He's okay, Avery, Jess. He just fell asleep. I think we're going to have to expect that. He's not very strong right now," he said, slumping in relief himself. It had scared him more than he would have thought. If Diana had to go through that again....

"He's not going to die?" Avery asked, looking up at her father with a tear-stained face.

Walker went down on one knee to meet her eye to eye and took her by the shoulders. "No, he's not going to die. He's just tired. He's still very sick, and you two need to help him rest. Okay? So he can come home sooner." She nodded and threw her arms around his neck in a hug that felt rather desperate. He returned the hug, hoping she wouldn't feel the desperation in his grip, too.

"He just scared us," Jessica said.

"I know, honey," Diana said, stroking her hair gently. "It would have scared me." Her hand on Jessica's head shook.

It took a week before the little girls stopped panicking every time Isaac fell asleep on them, and that was only after they saw him in the wheelchair, on his way back from another battery of tests. He was beginning to feel like a guinea pig, he'd been stuck so many times, and the general exhaustion was not going away. They had said it would take a while, but this was ridiculous. He crawled back onto his bed and collapsed before his head found the pillow, too tired to move, everything aching.

"Are you okay?" Jessica asked, peering into his face. He opened his eyes.

"I think so," he mumbled. She was blurry at best, and he was having trouble focusing on her. All he could see was her blue eyes; her features melted and swirled into others he'd seen those blue eyes in, then melted away again. It gave him a headache, but he couldn't look away. "Is mom here?"

"Yes, Isaac, I'm here," Diana said. She had been prepared a little, anyway, for the condition he would be in, but it still made her heart ache.

"Can you help me, please." He lay mostly on the bed, but his legs seemed too heavy to lift. She helped him get comfortable, pulling the blanket up around him. "When can I go home?" He was so tired, and this bed was not where he wanted to be sleeping.

Diana gently stroked his hair. She'd been asked that so many times now, not just by Isaac, and had asked herself. No one was being very forthcoming. "I don't know. They won't tell me, either."

He settled, his eyes slipping closed. "Want to go home, see Tay..." He drifted off, and Diana turned away from him, biting her lip to keep from crying. Her husband came in then, and she turned away from him, too, trying to get herself in control.

"Diana, are you okay?" he asked, pulling her to him. She gave up and sobbed onto his shoulder.

"No," she said, "he wants to go home and see Tay."

It took her a very long time to calm down.

Jessica watched Isaac sleep, sitting next to the bed and holding his hand. She didn't know what else to do, how else to help. She and Avery had been so scared, but he seemed to be getting better. At least, that's what everyone said. If her mother said so, she wasn't lying. But what if they were telling her lies? She turned her attention to the bed as Isaac shifted, then opened his eyes.

"Hi, Ike," she said softly. He turned to look at her and smiled.

"Hey, Jess. Whatcha doing?"

"Waiting for you to wake up. I'm just glad you aren't dead," she said. His breath caught, then he let it out, slowly.

"Yeah. Me, too. Where is everyone else?"

"Down having dinner. The nurse brought you yours, too." She indicated the tray. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, but I don't know if I dare try that stuff." He winked at her, then looked around. "There's supposed to be a remote to sit the bed up around here somewhere," he said. She held it up.

"I have it." The bed began moving, and by the time he was sitting up enough to eat, the room was spinning.

"Stop, Jess." He closed his eyes a minute. "Sorry. I got dizzy. Can you imagine how much fun it will be going up to my room? Never mind getting in bed." Jessica let go of his hand and pushed the tray closer to him, then uncovered his lunch. "Hey, yum." It was a grilled cheese sandwich, with Jell-O on the side. "Did you eat already?"

She produced a bag, and pulled her own dinner out. "Nope. I thought I'd keep you company."

He looked at her for a minute, fighting for control. He didn't deserve this from her, from anyone. "Thanks, Jess. I really appreciate this." He nearly choked on his words.

"Sure, Ike, anytime."

He found he couldn't even finish his sandwich, and leaned back on the bed, eyes closed. "I'm going to be really behind in school," he said softly, trying to fill the silence with something, anything but the incessant beeping that reminded him where he was.

"Mom said not to worry about it," Jessica told him. "There's always summer school."

"Yeah, but she doesn't want to be in school during the summer either," he protested.

"Don't worry about it. Just get better." The bed began to move again, and he shifted, trying to get comfortable. Finally, it stopped.

"I think I'm going to sleep a bit," he said.

"Good idea. I'll be right here." He barely heard her.

He started awake suddenly, looking around wildly, then relaxed on the bed, still panicky but weak. It was all way too real, he wanted to go home, away from the scents and sounds that recreated themselves in his dreams. "Isaac, it's okay," he heard, and turned to see Jessica. "What's wrong?" She looked and sounded really worried, and her grip on his hand had tightened.

"Just... a dream."

"It looked scarey. What happened?"

He concentrated, trying to remember, but the images faded too quickly, leaving a feeling of dread. "I don't know." He looked around, seeing if anyone else was there. "Can you come up here?" He needed someone nearer than she was, to keep the dreams away. And if she didn't mind....

"Sure." She crawled up over his legs and settled next to him, her back against his ribs, legs hanging over the edge of the bed. "Is that good?"

"Perfect." He lay his arm across her lap, and fell asleep again.

Diana walked in to find them like that. Jessica looked up from her book and smiled. "Hi, mom. How was dinner?"

"Good. Did he eat?"

"A little more than half the sandwich. He really liked it."

"I thought he might. What are you doing up there?"

"He asked me up here. I don't know why. But I think he's sleeping better."

Diana nodded, suppressing a smile. She sounded so grown up and so experienced. "Good. But you still have to go home with your father in an hour. You need your sleep, too."

Jessica's face fell. "Can't I stay here, with Ike?"

Diana shook her head, more to hide her feelings than anything else. "No, Jessie. They won't let you. You're too young. We tried already once, remember?"

"Yeah, but he's awake now! Please, ask? He needs me, he had a bad dream and I chased it away." She looked so earnest. Diana smiled.

"I'll go ask again."

"Thanks, Mom."

When Diana returned half an hour later, frustrated and a little angry, she found Jessica had lain down by Isaac and was asleep, cuddled against him, her head on his chest. Walker stood looking at them, a smile on his face, and Avery and Mac played quietly on the floor with his cars. "She wants to stay," Diana explained.

"I thought so. And they won't let her?"

"No. I just asked again. She's too young, even if an adult is staying as well." She sighed. "It's my turn to stay here tonight." He put his arms around her and held her tightly. "He's going to be fine," she said softly, almost as if she were trying to convince herself. "We'll take him home soon, and he will be fine."

Isaac woke slowly, becoming aware of his surroundings bit by bit. Eventually it came to him that Jessica was gone. "Jess?" he asked.

"She had to go home, Ike. The nurses wouldn't let her stay here." He turned to look, focusing in on his mother.

"Oh. Okay." He closed his eyes, then felt her touch his face, brushing his hair back. He wanted to shudder, to get away, she couldn't just do that. Jessica didn't understand that he'd killed Tay and Zac, but Mom did, surely, and she shouldn't even want to be here, should want to leave him alone.... But the gentle stroking on his head went on, and he didn't have the strength to make her stop. And, in spite of himself, the rhythm helped him to fall back to sleep, just as she had hoped it would do.

Four weeks later, they released Isaac from the hospital. Just walking up the stairs to his room wore him out. He sat down on the top of the stairs and leaned against the wall, trying to get his breath back. Jessica passed him and touched his shoulder; he almost shrank away from her but held himself still. She couldn't understand. How he was going to get through the press conference when it happened, as it must, he didn't know. What could he say, that he'd killed his brothers, and he hoped they could all forgive him? How could he expect them to forgive him when he couldn't forgive himself? After a minute, he got up and went into his room.

Memory hit him like a physical blow, and he stopped, wavering, two steps in. It was clean of course, his mother had seven weeks to get it ready for him. The top of the bunk bed was gone, the trundle tucked out of sight, two of the desks bare looking without the usual school books, the Legos gone from the table where his bag from the hospital sat. It was a stranger's room. He stared, then closed his eyes against the memories. He had to open them again to keep himself from falling. There wasn't much of Zac or Taylor left. Had they done that on purpose, to help erase the guilt? He clenched his teeth to keep the tears away and forced himself to move, even if it were a little automatic. He unpacked the bag, hanging up his clothes in the mostly empty closet - empty not because everything was on the floor, but because their clothes had been packed away. He left the room almost in a run.

He almost collided with his mother and shrank away from her, nearly collapsing until he hit the wall. He leaned against it, willing himself to stay on his feet, and stared at the floor. "Isaac, are you okay?" She sounded so worried, and he couldn't figure it out. She touched his arm and he shook it off, brushing his hair back from his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just..." He gestured to the room, and she nodded.

"I know. It was hard. It will be hard for you for a while. But Ms. Cross thought it would be best if you stayed in familiar surroundings." Her voice shook slightly.

'But they aren't familiar.' Isaac remained silent for a while, then he took a deep breath. "Where did you put the Legos?" It was the only thing he could think of that they had all shared, his brain had turned off some time ago.

"They're in a box in the closet. On the floor. It's heavy, so be careful."

Be careful? he thought as she walked down the stairs. I can barely get up and down the stairs, and she wants me to be careful with a box of Legos? He realized he wasn't being coherent and slid down the wall to the floor, resting his forehead on his knees. It hurt so much to have them gone, to be the cause of their deaths....

"Isaac? Are you okay?"

He looked up at his father and sighed. "Yeah. Just... resting." He tried to get up, and finally took his father's extended hand, snatching his own back as soon as he was steady. He leaned against the wall again, dizzy and already exhausted. "I don't believe this," he mumbled. "I'm ready to go to bed, I can hardly stand."

"Want some help?"

"No, I'll be fine. Thanks." It tasted like ashes in his mouth. He pushed away from the wall and stepped back into the room.

Walker watched him forge a path through the memories of his brothers. He knew the pain he felt, but didn't know how to comfort him, what to say, other than that he wasn't to blame for his brother's deaths. Isaac stripped off his shirt and fell onto the bed. He didn't move again. Walker went in, pulled his shoes off, and pulled the blanket around him. There had to be something they could do. He pulled the curtains closed to block at least a little of the sunlight, and left the door ajar.

Isaac's eyes snapped open and he stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath. It was so far away. He could remember the first time he slept on the top bunk bed, and being afraid he'd hit his head when he got taller. He never had even come close to hitting it. Almost all his height had come in his legs. He lay there long enough to know that he wasn't going back to sleep, so he finally got up, turned on the light over his desk, and began to study.

"Isaac, wake up. How long have you been there?" His mother shook his shoulder firmly, and he sat up, wavering at the sudden move. He was still at his desk, an essay for English half written in front of him. What he saw didn't make much sense.

"I woke up at 3:00 and couldn't go back to sleep," he said, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

"3:00?" She pursed her lips, then nodded. "Okay. Breakfast in half an hour. Can you be ready by then?"

He opened his mouth to say 'of course', then stopped. He was already tired. Maybe he couldn't. "I'll try," he said.

"Okay."

He never knew how he managed to make it to breakfast on time.

The press conference turned into a disaster; he was so tired by that time he could hardly think. At least, he thought later, he'd kept from crying in front of the whole world. That was probably the only good thing that came out of it.

He sat there, looking out over the sea of people, trying not to be terrified. Having Taylor and Zac there had kept him from running out the nearest door the first time; Zac hadn't been fast enough to escape when they'd started, and neither of the two older boys really wanted to leave him behind. They had gotten used to it, after a while, and it had even gotten fun. But this was like those first few times. He took a deep breath and waited, glad that the fear kept the tears at bay.

Questions came at him from every direction, and he answered them as best he could. He wished at one point to have someone else there, to share the heat. He missed that, missed his brothers badly then. One question took him completely off guard, though it shouldn't have, when he thought about it later. "What?" he demanded. He couldn't believe his ears.

"Are you going to go on, as a solo act?"

"Alone?" He stared at them, their faces blurring, and he fought to focus his eyes again, to keep control. He would not lose it now. He was not going to cry. His hands gripped the edge of the table, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. "No. Why would I? As if it would even remotely be the same. Have you never lost anyone? It's like a hole in your life, and it will never, ever be filled again. By anything. And the music died with them." He forced his hands to let go of the table and took a nervous gulp of water from the glass in front of him, hands trembling. Then he looked back at the sea of faces, spent, waiting for the next question numbly.

"Thank you, folks, that'll be all," Chris Sabek's voice cut through the daze he'd fallen into, and a hand fell on his shoulder, jolting him. "Come on, Ike. It's over."

Chris pulled Isaac away from the table, from the microphones, from the questions the reporters kept shouting at him, and turned him over to his family. They stood in a clump, arms around each other, drawing strength just to be able to move again. Finally, they did, getting into the van and driving home, back to their own life. Isaac sighed in some relief and leaned his head against the window. That part of his life was finally over. Now all he had to do was find something to take up the time the music had. He had no ideas where to even start looking for something like that.

Finding Isaac asleep either at his desk or down in front of the tv in the morning became a regular occurrence. Diana worried about it, but Isaac couldn't or wouldn't give her any reason for his sleeplessness other than "nightmares". It bothered her that he could be lying to her when he claimed that he couldn't remember them. That was cleared up one night when she and Walker were jolted out of sleep by a scream. Running into the hall, they found Jessie and Avery at Isaac's door, looking scared.

"Mom?" Jessie asked.

"It's okay, go back to bed," she said, pulling the girls away as Walker went in. She put them back to bed, trying not to show her impatience as she tucked them in and eased their fears as well as she could. When she finally reached Isaac's room, he still clung to his father, looking at her over Walker's shoulder. His brown eyes were wide and scared, glittering with unshed tears, his hair tangled and damp with sweat. She sat next to them, gently rubbing Isaac's back. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.

"Just... just a dream," he said.

"What was it about?"

His grip on his father tightened. "I... I don't remember."

"How long have you had these dreams?"

"Almost since I woke up in the hospital," he said softly.

"You don't remember them?" she asked. He shook his head, and she sighed. "Okay."

"Why don't you try to go back to sleep?" Walker asked, and Isaac let him go, practically pushing him away.

"All right." There was a sudden distance, and the couple exchanged a glance. Something was definitely wrong.

Isaac turned to look at his mother, and she moved to let him lay down. "What did you do with my bed?" he asked suddenly.

"What?" Walker asked.

Isaac waved his hand up where his bunk would have been. "My bed. Where is it?"

"Oh. It's in the storage room, downstairs."

"Okay."

Diana pulled the covers up over him, tucking him in, and kissed his cheek. "Sleep well, okay?" she said, worried.

His eyes met hers then dodged away, and he nodded. "You too." His voice sounded like it came from a distance. Walker turned the light off, and the two left.

Three nights later, they were awakened again, and again two nights after that. His school work began to suffer, but he struggled on, so tired he even fell asleep at the dinner table one night. He couldn't give any reason for his sleeplessness. The next night when he woke up, breath catching in his chest, he saw his father sitting at Zac's desk.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly. Isaac half sat up, supporting himself on his elbows. He knew he hadn't yelled. His throat didn't feel raw like it did when he had. So what was he doing in here?

"Yeah. What are you doing in here?"

"We're worried about you. These nightmares aren't good, and we hope having someone in here will help you out."

Isaac let himself fall back to the bed. "Oh. Okay." He turned away, but didn't go right to sleep. How did they know about the other nightmares, the ones that didn't have his brothers dying horrid deaths and made him wake up screaming? He hadn't told anyone about them, or the creepy feeling he got when he woke up from them. It was a little scary that his father had gotten into his room without him hearing. He used to wake up at the littlest noise. And he didn't know what to make of this new development. They shouldn't be wasting their time on him; mom had four other kids to take care of, children that needed her. He closed his eyes to rest them - they hurt - and fell asleep.

The next morning, his father was gone. He lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't had his own room since he was six, and it was lonely. He missed hearing Zac's snores, and Taylor shifting around - it used to take him ages to find the position that would let him sleep. Isaac rubbed at his eyes; they hurt again. Maybe the correct word was still. Finally, he pushed the blankets aside and rolled out of bed; it was going to be one of those mornings. Standing up took more energy than he really had. He dressed haphazardly and started down the stairs, but about halfway down he had to sit down to rest, afraid that if he didn't, he'd end up falling. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, jerking awake as Jessica and Avery passed him on their way up. Jessica touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, and pulled himself to his feet, using the banister. He managed to make it the rest of the way down the stairs but stopped at the bottom and leaned against the wall again. He felt like going back to sleep, as if all the energy for the day had been used up just to get him downstairs. He didn't know how he was going to make through the rest of the day. He looked longingly at the couch, and decided to try a nap. Going back upstairs was not going to happen. He could just imagine losing his balance and ending up dead at the bottom of the stairs, or worse, just hurt and winding up back in that hospital. He couldn't do that to Jessica and Avery. The couch beckoned; he collapsed onto it and fell asleep almost immediately.

When he woke up, his mother was sitting across the room, watching him and rocking Zoe. "Are you okay?" she asked.

He sat up and looked at her, blankly. "Yeah. Just tired." The nap hadn't helped at all. He just wanted things to go back to normal, wanted it so bad he could almost cry over it. No. He wasn't going to cry. That didn't help anything.

His mother smiled at him gently. "Ike, you need to shave." He reached up and touched his cheek. Yep, definite stubble. Okay, long stubble, but not quite beard material. Yet. "Mackie was saying something about a werewolf earlier. I think I see what he meant."

Isaac slumped back into the couch. "It didn't even occur to me this morning," he said. "I almost didn't make it down the stairs."

"I got worried when you didn't come in for breakfast."

Breakfast? Oh... "What time is it?" His stomach growled at the thought of food.

"I'll start lunch in a few minutes. Or right now, if you want to hold Zoe."

Isaac's eyes widened in sudden panic, and Diana looked at him, confused. Before she could ask him what was wrong, Jessica and Avery appeared and started clambering for her attention, both claiming it was their turn to hold the baby. By the time she'd gotten it all straightened out, Isaac had vanished. She sighed and headed for the kitchen.

When he woke up the next night, his mother was at Taylor's desk. That pattern followed, night after night, and Isaac quit reacting. He just wanted to be left alone, given at least the illusion of privacy. Then the nightmares became almost violent. He woke one night to find his father standing over him, pinning his shoulders to the bed. Isaac gasped for breath, eyes wide, throat sore, and he knew he'd been screaming. Well, he'd had a good reason.

"What?" Walker asked gently. It never crossed Isaac's mind not to answer.

"I... was in... Jakarta," he gasped, and swallowed in a dry throat. "At the Hard Rock, and everyone there was dead... except me. Even you." He shuddered, then took several deep breaths. "I'm okay," he said finally. Walker let him go.

"Sure?"

No, I'll never be okay! his thoughts screamed. "Yes. Thanks." He turned away, to the wall again. He heard his father sit down, and sighed softly. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He never noticed that he managed to go back to sleep when they were there.

Diana and Walker were bewildered at the change in Isaac. He withdrew from them, barely interacting with his younger siblings, rarely saying anything. Jessica didn't know what to do, but kept trying to reach him. He shied away from her so much that she cried herself to sleep more than a few times. Diana was afraid to talk to him about it after the first time; he'd looked so beaten that she'd gone back to her room and cried for a long time.

He lost weight, too, she could tell. It began to look as if Taylor were trying to wear his clothes, they hung on him like drapes. She was fairly certain he ate and it made no sense. At least, he was in the kitchen for dinner every night, on time. She didn't know how he made it, some days. Trying to pin him down, though, was an exercise in futility. She tried going into his room after the lights were out, but soon realized that he slept almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

So their evenings were spent at the kitchen table, trying to help him with his homework, helping the girls with theirs, until bedtime. Nice, neutral, where he would actually react to them. He didn't seem to mind the arrangement, submitting to it and it's implications without a protest, even wearily, as if it didn't matter what they did. Diana didn't know what was wrong; he wouldn't let her touch him, avoiding her hand with an expert ease that bothered her more than she let show. And so it went on, Isaac getting worse instead of better and trying to hide it, his parents reaching out to help, only to have him dodge out of the way.

Isaac could feel the control slipping away. It happened more often now, but this was the first time he wouldn't be able to hide it. He clenched his fists, as if to get a firmer grip on it, and gritted his teeth. The paper in front of him blurred and he blinked, then shook his head to clear his eyes. Nothing was helping. With an abrupt shove, he pushed himself away from the table and left the room. His mother and sisters watched him go, mystified. He wandered around the ground floor of the house, not really seeing anything, moving around his father as if the man were a piece of furniture. He finally let himself out of the house and into the rain.

Walker watched his son walk out of the room, then went into the kitchen. "What is wrong with Isaac?" he asked.

"I don't know. He seemed to be doing relatively fine, then he just left." She shook her head. "He's still brooding, and that frightens me."

"I don't think he even knew I was there." Walker sat next to Jessica, and ruffled her hair. She looked at him.

"Hi, Daddy."

The peace descended again, until Mackenzie walked in. "Is it okay to hit trees?"

Diana and Walker looked at him in surprise. "What, Mackie?" she asked.

"Not s'posed to hit girls. Can I hit trees?"

Walker looked at his wife in question. "He hit Avie this morning, and I told him that real gentlemen don't hit girls," she explained.

"Why are you asking about trees?" Walker asked, turning to the only son he had left that wasn't driving him crazy, wondering if he was going to start.

"Ike's hitting the tree house tree," Mackenzie said. Walker exchanged a glance with his wife, and rushed out of the room.

Outside, he saw Isaac hitting wearily at the tree with both hands, blonde hair darkened and plastered to his head and neck with rain. He walked over and around the tree to try to gage Isaac's mood, and the boy didn't even seem to see him. His mouth moved, forming soundless words, and his hands, clenched into fists, didn't stop moving, thudding regularly into the tree.

"Isaac," Walker said. He didn't react. Gently, Walker wrapped his arms around Isaac, pinning the boy's arms to his sides. Isaac tried to pull away weakly, and finally just stood there blankly, eyes closed against the rain that ran down his face. Walker loosened his restraining grip to give comfort and waited. He was a little surprised that Isaac hadn't collapsed already. He often seemed on the verge of doing just that. He had, a couple of times.

The walls were coming down, melting in the rain, and Isaac didn't want that. He didn't want to crumble to pieces. He felt fragile, as if he'd break and go crazy. He stood there next to his father, knowing he was loved, if not understood. He shouldn't be loved, he should be hated. He'd killed.... He resisted, trying to escape the gentle bands across his chest and back and they stiffened slightly, with just enough strength to keep him there. He couldn't find a grip to push his father away, and he finally gave up. It was depressing how easy it was for his father to hold him there. Even more depressing, if his father did let go, he would probably just fall.

"Let me go," he whispered, dredging up from somewhere the last vestiges of the rage and pain that had kept him going for the last weeks. They drained out of him too quickly, washed away by the rain. Finally, he relented. His head dropped, and he gave in, leaning against his father to keep on his feet. He was so tired.

Walker felt the change in Isaac and wondered about it. He'd fought so long, and now it was if he'd given up. It took a minute, but eventually, Walker was sure he wouldn't fall if he let him go. Isaac seemed so unsteady, not to mention depressed and withdrawn. Walker released him but kept an arm around his shoulders, even more worried. There was no way of knowing what would happen once the depression began to lift; he'd read somewhere that was when kids committed suicide. Hopefully, that would not happen. Turning, he walked him inside, and called softly to his wife. They stood in the family room, dripping, until Diana arrived with towels and blankets, wrapping them around her son and husband.

Isaac didn't move, too drained to even want to. He'd pushed them away too long, and he had no strength left. From a distance he heard his mother and father talking about him, then they began to move him about, something like a doll, pulling his shirt off, and then sitting him down to remove shoes and socks. The material going over his hands hurt, but he didn't react, too numb to even think. He leaned back into the couch, eyes closed, limp. They wrapped more blankets around him, then dug out his hands and did something to them. His right hand sent sharp pains up his arm as they moved it and he moaned softly. His father's firm grip on his wrist kept his hand steady even as he tried to pull it away. He didn't even have the energy to open his eyes, to see what was wrong.

"Hold still," his mother said softly. "I think you might have broken it."

He sighed bitterly, closer to tears than he'd been in a long time. Of course he'd broken his hand. Everything he did was destructive. Diana chuckled. "It's not that bad, Isaac." She brushed his hair back, and kissed his forehead. "It's not that bad. We'll check on it tomorrow." Something stung his left hand, but at least it didn't hurt when she moved it.

A whispered conference followed, then they got him standing and up the stairs to his room. He stopped outside it, refusing to go in with all the strength he had left. It wasn't enough. Walker and Diana exchanged glances, then carefully pulled him in and put him in bed. Isaac started shivering as they put a heated blanket over him, and before he knew it, his shivering had stopped and he fell asleep.

Diana sat at the table, head in hands, when Walker came down from putting the rest of the children to bed. He sat next to her, pulled her into his arms, and just held her. She melted into his grip, and sighed. "What are we going to do?" she asked softly.

"I don't know. This is the worst he's been." They sat in silence for a minute.

"Does that mean he can only get better?"

"I hope so. I don't know how to help him any more than you do." Walker tightened his arms around her. "And the nightmares should be starting soon."

"He's so exhausted. Do you think he'll still have them?"

A strangled cry from upstairs answered her, and they both raced for the stairs. In the bedroom, they didn't see Isaac at first. Walker turned the light on, and Isaac's reaction to block it drew their eyes to him. He sat curled in the corner, pale and shivering. Diana sighed. "Let's try the guest room. Maybe he'll sleep in there."

It didn't take long to get Isaac to his feet and into the other room. He was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow. "That's it," Walker said. "I am not going to drive him further over the edge. He can move in here until he's ready to go back to his own room."

"But the doctor..."

"Doesn't have to be up with him at all hours." Walker shook his head. "You don't need any more stress. And he needs to sleep. He can't recover from all this if he can't."

Diana hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

"You go to bed. You're as tired as he is. I'll watch tonight, and if he sleeps well, maybe we can just leave him here."

Diana nodded, leaned down to kiss Isaac's cheek, and left the room. Isaac shifted slightly but otherwise didn't even seem to notice.

When he woke the next morning, his hands hurt. He stared at them, bandaged, then remembered what had happened the night before. His eyes stung, and he didn't want to see what his hair looked like; he could remember what it had looked like the last time he'd gone to sleep with his hair wet. He almost smiled at the image, and it felt strange. Moving carefully, he got up, looking around, and it took him a minute to figure out where he was. He only vaguely remembered being moved to the guest room. He was stiffer than he would have thought, and could think of absolutely nothing that would make him sore. He paused a minute, studying his hands, moving the right one and wincing in pain, then he walked down the stairs to the kitchen. Amazingly, he did feel better. His head was clearer, and he didn't remember having any dreams. He actually made it down the stairs without having to stop to rest, the first time in weeks.

"Hi, mom," he said softly, pausing in the doorway. He couldn't make himself go into the kitchen.

The relief in her eyes when she turned to look at him was almost a blow, and his eyes dodged down, away from her. "Isaac, good morning. How are you feeling?"

He shrugged one shoulder shyly. "Tired. Better. My eyes hurt, and my hands...." He blushed slightly. "Do you really think I broke it?"

"I don't know. We thought we'd take you in today and find out." She looked at him, hovering in the doorway, and beckoned him in. "Come in and have some breakfast." He hesitantly stepped in, as if expecting to get eaten alive, and slipped into a chair. "You're up early. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks. You?"

"Very well, thank you. What would you like to eat?"

"It doesn't matter. Anything is fine."

Diana chuckled. "Even oatmeal?" She almost didn't see the face he made, and stared at him. It was an expression she hadn't seen on his face in a very long time. "Not that, huh?" He hadn't protested against oatmeal in so long, she'd almost forgotten he didn't like it. She swallowed the tears that threatened to fall, afraid that this fragile hope would shatter. It looked like she might be getting her son back.

He shook his head. "No." His mind shied away from the thoughts that followed, reminding him that Taylor and Zac had LIKED oatmeal. "Just cereal, maybe?"

"Not hungry?" she asked, pulling boxes out of the cupboard.

"No, not that. It's just that oatmeal doesn't sound good."

"It never did." She ruffled his hair as she walked past; he didn't toss his head as he had the past few weeks. It gave her hope a boost, that he might be healing.

She sat down next to him, and took a deep breath. "What happened last night?"

He paused, and looked at her. "You mean, why did I go out and pound on the tree?" He glanced in some frustration at his hand.

"Yes."

He sighed and gave up trying to eat left handed. "I was trying to drown out the voice," he said finally. "She kept telling me things would be fine, that I would be united with them soon...." He shook his head, gently. It still ached. "She said I would be her's, soon, and she'd have all of us. Behind it all was the beeping and whirring, and the smell of ammonia, and sometimes she would touch my face, or my arm...." He shuddered. "I don't understand. But it scared me. And that woke me up...."

"When the nightmares didn't?"

He shuddered. "That was a nightmare. Only I didn't wake up screaming." He flushed, and picked up the spoon to try again.

They dropped the younger kids off at Grandmom's, and went to the hospital. The nurse, a young woman who looked at Isaac with interest, took their names and told them to wait for a minute in the waiting room. Her name tag read "M. Teek". Isaac sat still, eyes closed. He still looked tired, but the night's sleep had done him wonders. The bags under his eyes weren't as dark, and his face had lost most of the gaunt, sleepless look.

Mali paused in the doorway, looking at the boy next on the schedule. He looked dreadful, as if he'd been fighting something bigger than him, and he'd won because that thing had walked away from him. Exhaustion hung like a cloud around him, and she was sorry to have to wake him. The people in the waiting room all looked up with interested eyes as his name was called, but Isaac didn't seem to notice them. He followed the nurse to an office and was left there. Sitting on the examining table, he pulled his knees to his chest and rested his cheek on them.

"What's the problem?" The voice jolted him out of a doze, and he looked up quickly.

"Uhhh... My hand. I'm supposed to get an x-ray, to see if it's broken." He straightened his legs, letting them hang down the side of the table. The older nurse looked at him closely, then checked his file. Her name tag said M. Cross.

"Why were you hitting a tree?" she asked, turning to him.

"I had to do something, and I figured the tree wouldn't get hurt." He almost shrugged.

She nodded. "All right, Clarke, follow me."

Isaac blinked. "My name's Isaac," he said. He could have sworn he'd told her that already. She turned and looked at him, then nodded and beckoned him after her.

The x-ray revealed that he had cracked one of the bones in his hand, and they put it in a brace. The nurse moved his hand around a bit, as if to see where it would be best, and by the end of it, tears had tracked Isaac's face from the pain. He was just too worn out to hold them back anymore. Even holding it still didn't help.

"Let me get you something for that," she said, and left the room. Isaac paced, an odd feeling coming over him. He'd heard someone say that once, in a voice like that one, but he couldn't identify the time or the circumstance. All he knew was that the familiar panic had started to set in again, only this time he was awake. There was no way out of this one. On the other hand, it couldn't fade into Paramus Mall, where everyone was dead except him. He shuddered at the thought, grateful he'd never had that nightmare. Or at least if he did, it was one he didn't remember.

He was all the way across the room when she came in, a syringe in her hand. "What's that?" he asked.

"Something for the pain."

Isaac froze, staring, memories raining down on him - the words, the ominous voice a warning that something was wrong. It distracted him until she took his arm. That touch brought more of the nightmares back, the ones that he hadn't screamed himself awake, the ones he feared more than the others because they came from everywhere. Memories and dreams collided in his mind, from before the accident, and the voice he heard, and resolved themselves in this one woman. He wrenched free and pushed her off. "It was you," he hissed, not even seeing that he'd knocked her down, and ran out the door, fear taking over. He rounded a corner and nearly collided with the younger nurse, who fended him off with a practiced hand on his chest.

"Whoa. Why so fast?"

"She..." He turned and pointed, unable to even remember the woman's name, body trembling in panic. "She gave something to me. And I killed my brothers." The anguish in his face was plain, and a little bit familiar. She'd seen that expression before. Then she remembered where. "But he's not..." she began to say.

He started at the sound of someone calling security, and looked around, even more panicked. "Go upstairs one floor," she told him. "Third door on your right. You can hide there." She pointed the way to the stairs, and he was off like a deer. The door closed behind him just as security arrived, and they headed towards the door. As it closed, she noticed that they all headed down. She nodded and went to find Isaac's parents.

"Your son... attacked one of the nurses, Madeline Cross," a man was explaining to them when she arrived. "We think he's left the hospital. Where would he go?"

"Is Ms. Cross all right?" Diana asked.

"Yes, she's fine, just a little shaken up," the man answered.

"I don't know where Isaac would go," Diana answered, looking wearily at her husband. Mali's heart went out to her. "He might go home, or to his grandmother's. Or to any one of his friends or relatives. We can start calling around, if you want." Then she chuckled a little, and to the nurse, it sounded like she had laughed so she wouldn't cry. "I'm surprised he made it out of the hospital."

He nodded and turned; the nurse recognized him as being on the security detail. "Mali here can show you to a phone."

Mali smiled at them and started off towards the stairwell, motioning them to follow. The phones were located conveniently in that area. "Isaac is upstairs," she said softly as they stopped by one of the phones. "I sent him up. I don't think he attacked her."

"What happened?"

"He said something about she having given something to him and him killing his brother. But he's upstairs."

Diana and Walker exchanged glances and ran for the stairs.

Isaac dashed into the room and leaned against the door, trying to catch his breath. It took a while. As soon as he calmed, he looked around. Someone lay in the bed, strapped in, and Isaac moved closer, curious. Why would they have to be tied down? There was little light in the room, so he couldn't see well. The person moved, tossing its head, and Isaac gasped. His mind balked. Wasn't he dead? "Taylor?" It came out strangled, and he cleared his throat to try again. Taylor's eyes snapped open.

"What do you want now?" he asked, trying to look around.

"Taylor, it's me, Isaac." Isaac fumbled with the straps holding his brother to the bed, cursing softly as his right hand flared in pain. Finally, one hand was free, and both of them attacked the other straps. Taylor got out of the bed, and his knees buckled. Isaac caught him and led him out the door and into the hall, barely keeping on his feet himself. All he could think of was that since Taylor was alive, Zac must be, too. Somewhere on this floor, most likely. He had to find him.

"What are you doing here?" Taylor asked in utter disbelief.

"I have to find Zac." Isaac let Taylor down in a chair, and started down the hall, looking in each room he passed. Before long he disappeared around a corner.

Diana and Walker burst out of the stairwell and stared in disbelief at the sight of their second son, sitting calmly in a chair. He'd turned toward them, and the smile that covered his face was all Taylor. Diana gave a little sob and sank next to him, wrapping her arms around him.

"She told me Ike was dead," he said softly, wondering.

"Zachary Hanson! Are you here?"

All three of them started, then Walker raced off after his oldest. He rounded the corner and saw Isaac facing the nurse he was supposed to have attacked. From the room she stood in front of, he could hear a voice that sounded like Zac's.

"Yes, it's me. I found Taylor, Zac. It's okay." His voice faltered, and Walker started forward. Isaac staggered backwards one step, then collapsed in a heap at the woman's feet.

"Isaac?" Zac's voice sounded like he bordered on hysteria.

"Zachary, it's okay," Walker called, slamming his shoulder into the woman as she started to go into the room. She hit the wall with a crack and her knees buckled. In the room, Zachary lay strapped to a bed, pulling in some panic at the restraints. Walker got them open and carried the boy back out to the hall.

About that time, security arrived. Walker set Zac down and felt for Isaac's pulse. A syringe was stuck in his arm, but Walker didn't touch it. Isaac's pulse seemed strong, but he wasn't moving. The young nurse appeared at his side. "Is he okay?" she asked.

"I think so," he said. "But there's a needle in his arm. We need to find out what she gave him."

"Does he have any allergies?"

"Yes. A severe one."

Behind security came the police, who took charge and began asking questions. Walker didn't take his eyes off Isaac, waiting. The EMT had said that he'd gone into convulsions, and that was what had caused the accident. He was so afraid that Diana would have to go through that again. He didn't know if she'd be able to. On the other hand, though, she did have the other two back. The other question was whether Isaac would survive; he'd been in good health the last time, and he wasn't now. He hugged the boy next to him, desperate for some comfort. Zac leaned against him, more affectionate than he'd ever been, apparently needing the same thing.

"Walker, what's wrong?" Diana asked as she and Taylor came slowly around the corner. He had one arm around his mother's shoulders, leaning on her.

"She gave Isaac something. We're going to find out what it is."

"That's Ms. Cross. What is she doing here?"

"She stuck Isaac with something," Walker said patiently.

"And kept me tied down," Taylor added.

"Me, too," Zac piped up. Diana stared at him, and then smiled a huge smile, marred slightly by the tears in her eyes.

Two men in white came up with a stretcher and moved Isaac onto it. The rest of his family followed him to the room, then two more nurses descended on Zac and Taylor. Neither boy would leave his parents, so examinations were conducted in the room where Isaac lay. Both boys were quite healthy, if a little weak.

Isaac moaned low, bringing everything to a stop. Slowly, his eyes opened. "Everyone okay?" he mumbled.

"Yes, Isaac. We found them."

"Okay." His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, then his breathing evened out.

"She told me he died," Taylor said softly, watching the technician closely, "that he had a reaction to something, and they hadn't gotten to him in time."

"Pain medication of some kind," Zac said. He clutched his father's hand as if afraid to let go. Isaac mumbled something, and subsided.

"He did have a reaction to the pain medication she gave him before you left the hospital," Diana started.

Mali came in then with a doctor in tow, and they began to check Isaac over. "It was just a sedative," she said, turning to them. "He should be okay in about an hour." She took a deep breath as the doctor left, taking the others with him. "I wanted to apologize," she said. "I didn't know you didn't know Taylor was here." She looked down. "I just thought Isaac looked too much like him to not be his brother. And when he said that he thought he was dead, I guessed something wasn't right." She glanced curiously at Zac.

"You have nothing to apologize for," Diana said. "You led Isaac and us right to them. Thank you."

"Just to let you know, she has been fired, records are being double checked, and she's been arrested for kidnaping and assault, maybe even attempted murder. They think she might have tried to give Isaac a dose of the medication he's allergic to." She wrung her hands. "I had them check to make sure it wasn't in the sedative she gave him." She didn't add how her heart had stopped at the sight of him lying so still in the hallway upstairs. "I want to check on him one more time, then you're free to go."

"Thank you again," Walker said. The girl nodded and left.

"We'd better call your mother," Diana said. Walker took a deep breath, and nodded. He moved Zac closer to his mother and left the room. Zac leaned against her, brown eyes wide and still disbelieving. Taylor stood and stumbled to Isaac's bed, intent on his brother.

"What happened to his wrist?" he asked.

"He... walked outside and pounded on a tree last night," Diana said. She glanced down at Zac and squeezed him close. "He hasn't let us close since they told us you boys were dead. I suppose it was the guilt. He thought it was his fault."

Taylor spun so fast his knees nearly gave way, and he grabbed the bed to stay standing. "His fault? He couldn't have done anything!"

"I know. And maybe that made it worse."

Isaac mumbled something incoherently, and turned his back to them. Diana chuckled in relief just as Walker returned, and he smiled at her.

"Jessie almost took my ear off," he said. "I didn't know she could scream so loud."

"I did," Taylor said. He looked pinched and hungry. Diana narrowed her eyes at him, then looked at Zachary.

"Do you two want something to eat?" she asked.

"Will he be okay?" Zac asked, gesturing at Isaac.

"I'll stay here and make sure," Walker said. "Or, actually, why don't you all stay here, I'll go get something, and we can eat up here."

"That is a wonderful idea," Diana smiled. Walker smiled back. He'd seen the panicked look in her eyes.

"All right, what do you want?"

Lunch was quiet. Both Taylor and Zac stuck close to their parents, and glanced more than once at Isaac, still asleep on the bed. Walker wound up making two more trips down to the cafeteria; Taylor and Zac were quite hungry, and apparently it had been a while since they had eaten enough for them. Eventually, though, they were full and looking quite a bit more lively.

Mali came in just as they finished and checked Isaac. "He seems to be doing fine," she said to them. "You're free to go as soon as he wakes up."

Walker nodded. "Thank you for all your help."

"Also, just to let you know. It was just your boys that she had up there." She glanced at the two boys who looked at each other. "She thought she deserved to have them, I guess, since they used her name in a song."

Diana stared at her in disbelief. "She didn't know us," she said softly. "She said she had never heard of them."

"This" she gestured at Isaac "was an attempt to get the third one, as she said. The sedative she gave him was what she told him was something for the pain when he "attacked" her, so she wasn't trying to kill him, just knock him out. I honestly don't understand the whole thing." She cast one last glance at Isaac, as if reconsidering that statement, then left the room.

Taylor watched her, then looked at Zac when she left. "She was nice," he said, musing. Zac shrugged. "I never saw her," he said.

Taylor stood and walked, still unsteady, over to the bed. "Has it been an hour yet?" he asked.

"Yes, it has," Walker said, checking his watch. "Or at least, close enough to it."

"Should I try to wake him up?"

As if on cue, Isaac twitched, and Walker walked around the bed to look at him. "This is going to be a bad one," he said, glancing at Diana.

"One what?" Zac asked.

"Nightmare. Taylor, get away from there, please."

"Isaac," Walker said, pressing his son's shoulders to the bed. "Isaac, wake up." Isaac tossed his head and mumbled something. "Come on. It's okay. They're here, now."

Slowly, fighting the urge to sleep, Isaac forced his eyes open, looking up at his father. Then his eyes dodged away again. "Why can't I wake up?" he asked.

"You got stuck with a needle, and it made you sleepy," Walker explained.

"Where are we?"

"The hospital, remember? Your hand?"

"Oh, right.... Right. And the nurse, who wanted to give me something for the pain." His voice was detached, numb.

"Yes."

"But she did that once, and I killed Taylor and Zac." There were tears in his voice that hadn't been there since he'd found out his brothers were dead.

"No," Taylor started to protest, but his mother touched his arm. "Sh. This is necessary."

"Isaac, they're right here." Walker didn't let his son up. Isaac's eyes drifted closed again, and his father shook him. "Wake up."

"I don't want to." Tears gathered under his eyelashes. Diana leaned closer, holding her breath. "It's a cruel joke someone is playing on me. They died, and I didn't." His voice cracked.

Walker glanced at his wife, who stood up, leaving Zac looking a little panicked. She walked over and touched Isaac's face. "Isaac, honey. This is no joke. Would we play that kind of a joke on you? Taylor and Zachary are not dead. They thought you were, because of that allergic reaction you had."

Isaac forced his eyes open again, but he didn't look at either of them, eyes dodging away as they had since he'd been told of his brother's deaths. "But... the accident... she said...." He couldn't continue, and lay limply, tears rolling down the sides of his head and getting lost in his hair. Diana gestured for Walker to let him go, and he rolled onto his side, curling into a ball, his back to them again. His brokenhearted sobbing made Taylor nervous.

"Mom, what happened?" he asked, managing to make it to the chair next to Zac before he fell. Walker and Diana both pulled extra chairs around.

"They told us you had died," Diana started. "And to be honest, we had so much to deal with that we kind of let that slide. Isaac was in a coma for two weeks because of that reaction he had to the medication they gave him. We almost lost him, too." She sighed, then smiled slightly. The "too" was no longer necessary. "He's been a zombie since he got home. He had no chance to deal with your loss."

"He'd been home maybe three days when the press came pounding on the door. He was really tired and didn't handle it very well," Walker said. "He hasn't had a moment to himself since."

"Oh," Taylor said.

"Then came the nightmares. The only one we got any details on was the one that took place in Jakarta, apparently at the Hard Rock, where everyone was dead but him, including us," Walker told them. "That was all he told us about it."

"Ick." Zac made a face. "That was a tough one when everyone was alive."

A long while later, Isaac's tears stilled, and he rolled onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. "She said they died," he said. His voice still wasn't completely under control.

"She said a lot of things, Isaac. Not a lot of them were the truth." Walker stood and approached the bed. "In fact, she told your mother she'd never heard of you, and the whole reason this all happened was because of "Madeline". She thought she deserved to have you, all of you, because of that." Isaac's eyes actually met his father's.

"They're okay?" he asked softly.

"They're waiting to talk to you. Want to get up, now?"

His first attempt failed. He looked at his father in such surprise that Walker had to laugh. Isaac gathered his strength, and pulled himself up. "Whoa." The blood drained from his face, but returned, slowly. Walker gripped his shoulders to steady him when it looked like he was going to fall back to the bed.

"Head rush?" Taylor teased. "Or did you look in a mirror?"

Isaac stared in some disbelief that faded as he smiled. "Do you see a mirror?" he asked. "I saw you." But he was smiling, if tiredly, and reached out to clasp hands with his brother. "Good to see you again. If I weren't so sleepy, I'd be jumping around." He paused, just looking at Taylor, then turned to find Zac, clinging desperately to his mother. "Can we go home yet?"

"Yes," Diana said. Isaac got off the bed and took a couple of steps as a trial, and nodded. They walked into the hall, Diana helping Zachary, Walker supporting Taylor, who's legs wanted to collapse every two or three steps, and Isaac right behind, watching his brothers with surprise and delight.

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